So you like to watch?

So you like to watch? Yeah you do. Can't stop, can you? How about that? Would you like to try to participate? I find that it makes things so much more fun when people do. Leave a comment. Or you prefer to watch?The thing people dislike in others is the thing they dislike about themselves. Everyone watches. They just don't tell. Enjoy. kisses. m.


Watcher.
(9-22-2010)

The mornings are always the best for watching things move outside the windows with the light colors of the day. It’s morning when I do this most. Watch the windows. Look for the slight movements of the birds in the trees and people getting into their cars while the still sounds of the day start to jump to louder sounds of life. The sounds inside are almost as inviting. From where I’m sitting I can scan the entire room without so much of a shift or twitch.

It’s after the birds and before I see the neighbor hit his trash can that I’m watching Gregor. I’m watching him get up and get dressed in his usual routine of yoga, shower, and food when there’s a ring of the phone. He stops to show me affection with his free hand while the other quickly jots down notes that match the quickness of his voice. Hanging up the line he flips on the tube for me, before finishing his routine and although it makes my eyes dart attentively there’s nothing of interest to see. It’s before he leaves that he fills a small container with a handful of crackers and packs them in his pocket. Open and out the door but not so fast I get a wave and a smile. Gregor looks tired but this doesn’t change... oh how I love the colors of the mornings with the birds, trees and people.

It’s in the late afternoon that I find I like to groom myself. The thought of dirtiness sets me into a bit of an internal argument so I began the ritual of cleansing. Careful attention to every detail. Up and down the right front and working my way back clockwork against the grain of tan and repeating until I feel that the need has been sufficiently satisfied. For nearly an hour sometimes I can lose myself into this routine of cleaning while the maid washes the dishes and vacuums the hallway I keep my focus on the small pieces of dirt caught in between my hair.

The maid isn’t here today and that doesn’t matter except I’m not lost in the moment for long and wanting to eat again. Most days it’s before I clean and walk the perimeter of the house that I eat, but not today. Today there’s no maid and Gregor was late. But there’s someone new outside the window so I’m staying instead of eating. She’s not very friendly and looks to be the size of small girl and there’s she standing looking at me look at her in the window…

I wonder when Gregor is coming home when the girl walks away only she isn’t away but at another window and there’s no way to know about Gregor without the maid leaving today. Gregor never misses paying her on weekends and she isn’t here to take it so there’s no need to rush.

After playing with the small miniature man with a bell around his neck, I forget about eating, cleaning and the girl.

Laundry is what happens every Friday at 6:30. It’s the time that Gregor spends talking to me. I like when he talks with me. It so happens he always has a very interesting treat to share with me as gathers up clothes and talks while I watch. Into the bag he pushes piece after piece, but not tonight, he’s later that he should be and that small girl isn’t where she ought to be.

It’s nearly dusk outside and I like to watch the colors of the evening start deepening. Through the shadows I can see the neighbors outside cat, to which I refer to this feline in the loosest term of ownership, walking across the perimeter of the property fence. Fluffy, who resembles more of a FLAT looks like a dirty smelly oversized rodent with her small pieces of grey hair matted against the few remaining pieces of white, is chasing a small bug across the top of the fence. I’m almost envious when the girl that ought to be somewhere else is making too much noise while Gregor still isn’t here.

Nighttime is the best for watching the movement in the street. Cars zip in and out of the street and stray animals wander through the yards. Being alone at night usually isn’t a problem. I like to climb the curtains and swing my tail against in the direction of the blinds to watch them spin. Riding the curtains down is in bad taste according to Gregor but the thrill can’t be beaten. I think the small girl is gone... into the kitchen but forget to look as Fluffy has a red bow…

At the top of every hour the clock in the hall chimes this hour it’s ten times as I watch it. There’s a small light on in the entry way as Gregor’s car pulls up around the front. I can’t remember where the small girl went but there’s a twist in the blinds across the room and I know what that means. The nocturnal risings of the rodent of the house are ready to begin. I quickly leave my perch and wander towards the movement. The swing of the door and my pounce are timed. In comes Gregor and I’ve caught a mouse. Proudly I swing this newfound treasure about while Gregor takes off his coat and heads to the bedroom. I drop the mouse and start again.

The mouse proves to be a fun chase. I’ve made progress in killing the creature. Gutting its insides and dragging its lifeless body across the room to show Gregor. I like showing. It’s that feeling of recognition. Look. See what I’ve done when presenting my prize kill...

Gregor’s in the kitchen talking to someone. Someone in this kitchen where there’s been a struggle that leaves me pawing my way through a puddle of blood. It’s not mine and Gregor looks just fine. As my feet clear the wetness I nestle up against a foreign leg and drop my kill to the floor. His red stained hands reach down and pull me up while his blood soaked clothing reveals that he’s working and finishing up. The small girl looks helpless and scared tied to a chair as his blood stained hands continue making their way through my hair. RRRR...This is nice. I like that he’s home now. She is where she ought to be… and with that comfort I’m down across the room trailing the blood in my wake.

There’s something in the window… like a small animal looking in. Two big eyes reflected against the glass are there after I’ve decided to take apart the pillows in the bedroom. With small feathers strewn about all I can think about is how much I want to play with the eyes looking in and dance with the movements. The nights are best for looking out windows and watching.